So You Think You Can Dance
“So You Think You Can Dance,” one of my favorite summer T.V. shows, is here again. I must say, each year I am inspired anew. Inspired by their beautiful bodies to take care of my own. Inspired by their discipline, passion and strength. For me, most T.V. shows do nothing more than entertain. But with this one, I feel reminded that the world is a stage. Radiance is a lifestyle: a mix of gratitude, confidence, generosity, humility and determination. I want to be radiant. I want to be surrounded by radiant people. I’m blessed in that way, because the people closest to me glow with a particular kind of life. In some it is very faint, others very bright, but with each I anticipate what a new day will reveal about them.
When I was a young dancer, I was taught that it’s not how you begin a pirouette . . . it’s whether or not you can land it. All pirouettes start out looking pretty much the same, but toward the end itâ€™s easy to see which dancers are deliberately creating beauty and which are flopping around. Flopping can be beautiful, but it lacks form. Thanks to Plato, I love Form, and I need it to properly enjoy dance. Unless, of course, my daughter-to-be wants to flop around. I’ll flop with her all day.
My husband would probably turn this into a basketball analogy. It’s fun to watch someone get lucky and beat the buzzer at the 3 point line once in awhile. But it can be more satisfying to watch a pro sink the same ball because one can sense the desire, commitment, and practice behind that shot.
If you asked me to tell you what life analogy I take away from “So You Think You Can Dance,” it would be this: Floppy leads to Form. A pirouette is never good the first thousand times. It always begins beautifully and ends horribly. It takes time to learn to land a pirouette. It takes time to land a new phase of life, too. Beginning a new phase is the most natural thing in the world. Like getting married. When Daniel and I said our vows we started beautifully . . . then landed on our proverbial asses. When we finally quit busting our asses we were still short of a masterpiece, but a new element was added into our routine nevertheless: parenthood. So far we’ve inflicted, and received, more than our share scrapes and bruises trying to dance this new dance together. It doesn’t matter, though. Floppy leads to Form, and I have the best dance partner in the world.